


Clarity

by TheThirdGreywaren (ShelbyDraven)



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-02
Updated: 2015-03-02
Packaged: 2018-03-15 20:27:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3460925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShelbyDraven/pseuds/TheThirdGreywaren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He wiped the tears from his eyes, and the world was once again full of clarity.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Clarity

**Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds. I only own Roslyn.**

Spencer Reid never thought that he would be this tired of sleeping, but he was really dreading "lights out" tonight.

There was still two hours before it was time for lights out: one hour for dinner and meds, and one hour of free time. Usually he would be dozing off in the small, flower-pattern armchair in the day room, since his meds made him drowsy, but today he was startlingly wide awake.

It was both a relief and a disappointment. A relief because he had always longed for the fog to lift, and now that it did, the world was in crisp, sharp clarity. It was also a disappointment because Reid saw just how helpless his situation truly was.

That, and his sudden clarity was brutally cut short when the nurse noticed how quick he was to "swallow" his meds. He had never "cheeked his pills" before, as his roommate called it, but he thought it wasn't so bad for a first attempt.

His doctor didn't think so.

"Spencer," Roslyn began, "why didn't you take your medication?"

Reid shrugged, his movements slightly jerky. He wrapped his long, bony arms around his thin body protectively. He could feel his ribs poking into his arms, even through his three layers of clothing. It was cold in the rooms, but Roslyn's office was blissfully warmer that the rest.

Roslyn leaned forwards unconsciously. Reid watched her with clear, knowing eyes. He knew she was trying to form some kind of bond. Leaning closer to establish a closer link. His brain may have been scattered from his schizophrenia, but he was groomed to be a profiler, and the instinct to observe and draw conclusion wasn't something he could - or wanted - to shut down.

She was nothing like him, anyway. Reid looked down. He hated the hospital-issued slippers he wore. They were thin enough that he could feel the cold tile floor beneath him as he walked.

He realized Roslyn was talking

"... Tell me why that is, Spencer?"

He blinked at her.

"I'm sorry?" His voice was soft and hoarse, as if his voice was wearing away just like the rest of his body and spirit.

"You have stopped talking during group. You are starting to stop taking your medication. Is something bothering you?"

 _Yes_ , Reid wanted to say. _I'm always cold and foggy. I want to go home. I want to go back to work. I want my old life back._

Instead, he only shrugged again. Then, seeing the thinly masked disapproval in her eyes and face, he amended quickly, "I'm just tired, ma'am."

Her features filled with satisfaction at his revision. "Your new treatment has that effect, I'm afraid. I can look into new types of medication to help manage the drowsiness without interfering with you current medications."

Reid nodded, but he wasn't paying attention. He was focused on the way Roslyn kept looking at the notepad sitting next to her telephone.

He nodded along as she talked and gave simple, minimal answers when needed, but he wasn't even slightly interested in this session; he was only dying to know what Roslyn looked at so nervously.

Finally, with five minutes remaining, Roslyn asked if Reid had any questions.

"May I ask what is on that notepad, ma'am? I know it's about me, and you've been looking at it an average three times per minute for the past half hour."

Roslyn looked surprised, but then gave Reid a warm smile. "I forgot; you are a profiler." A part of Reid swelled up with excitement at the use of his doctor's present tense. She didn't make slip-ups like forgetting to use past tense, so the words were genuine.

"It is about you," she admitted. She looked at Reid in the eyes, allowing him to search them for any signs of untruthfulness. There was nothing. "Spencer, tomorrow you are going to have a special visitor. Jason Gideon is coming all the way from Wyoming to see you and say goodbye."

The last word didn't miss Reid's attention. He shot up straight, fear and worry taking over. "Goodbye? What do you mean? Is Gideon all right?"

"Mr. Gideon is fine, as far as I know. He's coming to say goodbye because after dinner tomorrow, you are being moved to solitary confinement and will be unable to receive visitors."

Reid's heart dropped. "Solitary confinement?" He choked out. His mind raced with everything he knew about the subject, the facts and statistics sending his mood plummeting.

Roslyn nodded solemnly, and she plastered on a bright smile when she saw something behind Reid. He turned in his chair, and he gave a weak cry of surprise when he found Gideon standing in the doorway. He began to stand up and hug the man he considered both a mentor and father, but a pair of strong arms wrapped around him as a security guard suddenly appeared behind him. Reid struggled, but his attempts were useless. He was stuck.

Gideon didn't move, or even blink as Reid struggled. When Reid made eye contact with his old boss, he blanched at the uncharacteristic coldness in his eyes. "Goodbye, Dr. Reid."

Dr. Reid? He thought. He opened his mouth to ask why Gideon used his professional name, but suddenly something pinched his arm. Reid cried out in shock, then began to buckle wildly when he noticed the now-empty syringe in Roslyn's hands. She had sneaked up on him.

"What did you give me?" He cried as his limbs began to slowly become numb. His mind slowed down, and his chin dipped as he fought unconsciousness. He barely made out the blurred form of Gideon in the doorway, who hadn't made a move to try and save Reid.

"Gideon! Gideon! Gideon help me!" Reid tried to yell, but his mouth was clumsy, and he only managed to make a string of odd vowels. He blinked sleepily, and suddenly he was shoved into darkness.

"Pretty Boy!"

Hands gripped Reid's shoulders, and he cried out, struggling to break free. "Gideon!" He cried, his eyes snapping open.

Through the blur he managed to make out Morgan's concerned face.

"It's okay, Pretty Boy. It's Morgan. You're safe, we're on the jet back to Quantico."

"Morgan?" Reid wanted to hug the older profiler, but he settled with a watery smile. Morgan returned it, and ruffled Reid's hair playfully.

Morgan retreated when he realized that Reid was slowly returning back to the present, and Reid kept his head down, face flushed with the feel of the team's eyes on him. No doubt they all heard him calling his missing mentor's name, and were worried. Hotch would probably insist on having a talk, but for now Reid could gather himself.

He wiped the tears from his eyes, and the world was once again full of clarity.


End file.
